Nobody's Perfect
by Carlos'sCupcake
Summary: Ummm a kind of pointless drabble that came to mind...kinda...featuring James lol


**A/N Don't know what happened here...was aiming for something cute/fluffy since I'm aboard with the James feels but this kinda has no destination lol.**

Fresh tears bite at your eyes when your phone alerts you of a new text. Against your will, you check it, reading the short message before throwing your phone across the room. Just like the few previous times this morning, it's from your boyfriend James. This one reads, **Wanna go to the movies? That new romantic chick flick you've been wanting to see is playing. **

It's only 12:37 p.m. and you feel like it's been a full twenty four hours already since your fight last night, instead of merely twelve.

_The two of you had been at a swanky club for one of James' friend's birthday celebrations and while he had went to the restroom, a stranger approached you, asking you for directions to the nearest department store. You politely gave him instructions on how to get there, and just about the time James was returning from the bathroom, a drunk couple dancing wildly almost bumped into you, except for the gentleman pulled you out of the way just in time. _

_ Before you could comprehend what was going on, James' fist collided with the stranger's face and a fight broke out, to which James proceeded to yell in your face and back you against a wall, informing you that you're taken and shouldn't be flirting with other men. He thrust his bloody fist just inches away from your eyes and told you angrily that it's your fault he's hurt. You know that he had been in a bad mood because he found a tabloid rumor about himself that wasn't true and spent the day pouting around, being in a bit of a foul mood. You hadn't quite noticed earlier on that James had been drinking so much; if you did, you would have stopped him because an angry James and alcohol are not a good combination. Needless to say, he was inebriated and too irate to listen to your reasoning, and your feelings were more than hurt. The last straw came when he called you easy. That was the point where you stalked away from him and called a cab to take you home, humiliated and infuriated. You locked yourself in your bedroom and cried yourself to sleep, never even hearing when James returned home._

He's been blowing up your phone all morning with text messages, ranging from **I'm sorry **to** I love you**. Next came** I'm an incredibly insensitive idiot. I was drunk and it's not your fault**, followed by** you're not a whore, **and lastly you got a picture of James jutting out his lower lip while giving you puppy dog eyes, holding up Fox with a text that read** We miss you**.

He's even attempted several times to knock on the door and talk to you in person, but you refuse to come out, not wanting to face him because you're really hurt by his words and behavior from last night. Your stomach grumbles, reminding you that the only thing you've had to eat today is a granola bar that you had tucked into your gym bag last week, but didn't eat it. You're bored out of your mind, having been mindlessly flipping through old magazines and watching t.v., wishing that last night didn't occur and you could be downstairs with James cuddled up on the couch or out doing something in the beautiful weather.

But instead, here you are, jumping onto the bed when a knock startles you and James' voice comes from the other side of the door. "I know you've got to be hungry babe, you haven't eaten at all today. I made you a grilled cheese and some tomato soup. I even poured you a tall glass of iced tea".

Trying to maintain your composure, you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around them, resting your chinon your knees, hoping that he'll just drop the food and run. You hear him slide down to the floor and don't have to see him to know that he's sitting on the carpet waiting for you to come out. It's like a tug of war, and soon enough exhaustion takes you over since you slept rather fitfully last night and you drift off.

When you awaken, your stomach grumbles madly and the thought of food sitting right out the door peaks your curiosity. "James", you whisper, wondering if he's still out there or if he went downstairs. When there's no answer, you say his name again, louder this time and feel a surge of hope shoot through you when once again no answer comes.

As if you're in a scary movie and the bad guy could be hiding just around the corner, you unlock the door slowly and as quietly as you can before inching it open, peeking out. A sigh leaves your mouth when you see a tray sitting on the table next to the door, complete with a mangled grilled cheese sandwich that's pretty dark but looks edible. The tomato soup is chunky and you bite back a laugh, coming to the conclusion that your boyfriend just might have forgotten to add milk or water to the condensed soup while heating it up. Your mouth starts watering at the sight of the sweet tea, it's your weakness, your very favorite beverage in the whole entire world that you can't go through a day without having.

Your heart flips when you think of last night all over again, but your pride is pushed to the backburner when another hunger pang hits, and you step out into the hallway. Placing your hands on each side of the tray, you begin to lift it when you're grabbed by a pair of strong arms shouting, "Gotcha!"

You shriek and try to get out of his hold, but his arms are around you tightly, pinning yours to your sides as you're raised up and carried into the bedroom. James sets you dwon on the edge of the bed and sinks down to his knees, silently begging you with eyes not to get up and run away. He places his hands on your thighs and begins to talk. "Babe", his hazel eyes bore into yours intensely and you're resolve is already weakening. "I'm so sorry about last night", he runs a hand through his disheviled hair and sets it on your knee. "I was a complete ass, wallowing in my own pity and I wrongfully placed the blame on you for...some innocent thing. I just", he pauses to sigh, dropping his gaze to the floor. "I was being selfish and wanted someone to feel as crappy as I did. It was immature and stupid and just completely wrong." With his head bowed down, you can see the tinge of pink painting his tanned cheeks; he's embarrassed, as he should be.

"James", you feel your eyes watering and place a hand on the side of his neck, rubbing his skin with the pad of your thumb.

"No", he raises his voice and shakes his head, fixing his eyes to yours. "I love you and there's no excuse for what I did. I've been driving myself insane all day figuring out how to make it up to you, but I know it's beyond repair. I accused you of something that didn't even happen, and then called you a name. It was unfair because instead of listening to you and ignoring what the magazine said, like you told me to, I got caught up in it and let my emotions get the best of me. I should have talked to you and let you know how bothered I was by it instead of trying to hide it."

"I", a tear spills out onto your cheek, not going unnoticed by James. You pity him, knowing that it couldn't have been easy reading accusations that he's gay in a big name Hollywood magazine.

"I'll be right back", he gets up hastily, leaving you baffled.

You don't have much time to think about what's going on until the sound of his footsteps ascending the stairs are filling your ears and he's rushing back into the bedroom, a dozen dark pink roses clutched in one hand, while the other carefully balances a bakery box. "For you, your favorite", he shrugs sheepishly and hands you the box, to which you open it, gasping when you see a dozen of your favorite cupcakes nestled inside. More wet drops escape your eyes, your heart swelling with love at this touching gesture. He must have ran out while you were sleeping.

"I know it's not much", he sits down next to you on the bed and takes your hands in his. "But it's a start."

You're so choked up that you can't form words past the lump in your throat.

"Baby, please say something", the features of James' handsome face fall into an expression of concern. "And please stop crying. I hate knowing I did that you."

His fingers come up to swipe at the tears and you manage to curl your lips up into a smile, wrapping your hands around his thick wrists. "I'm not mad...anymore", you speak. "I can't lie, I was really upset last night and this morning, but I know that you love me-"

"I do", the brunette nods and says, interrupting you, leaning his forehead lightly on yours.

"I know sweetie", you whisper, nuzzling your nose against his, enjoying the breath of contentment that leaves his chest. You love him and don't like seeing him like this; unsure of the state of your relationship, and in pain. "And I know you wouldn't intentionally try to hurt me. If you weren't drinking it wouldn't have happened. But I've chosen to forgive you because we all make mistakes from time to time."

He jerks back slightly, uttering, "Really?", as if he can't really believe what you just said.

"Yes", you take his face in your hands and lift yourself up onto your knees so that you're just a little taller than him. "We're only human after all and no one is perfect."

He shakes his head, wrapping a hand around the back of your head, caressing the hairs at the bottom of your neck; the other holding onto your waist. "You're wrong babe. You are perfect."

You roll your eyes, deciding not to say anything before pressing your lips into his, letting him know that things are okay again between the two of you, and giggling slightly at the scruff that tickles your flesh. Hey, if he wants to have such a high opinion of you, who are you to stop him from thinking so?


End file.
